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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776003">what's one more lie in the grand scheme of things?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_belle/pseuds/jesse'>jesse (accio_belle)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Crown of Candy - Fandom, Dimension 20 (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>'cause then he wouldn't have to deal with Gay Thoughts, Calroy Cruller Is A Big Fat Liar, M/M, Watching Someone Sleep, calroy wishes he were heterosexual, they're gay your honour, to everyone he meets but mostly to himself</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:29:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_belle/pseuds/jesse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the warm morning light that slowly filters past the curtains, Amethar has never looked less like a king.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>calroy watches amethar sleep, and has many thoughts about it. most of them are gay thoughts. some of them are sad gay thoughts. actually, scratch that, most of them are sad gay thoughts.</p>
<p>[SPOILERS FOR A CROWN OF CANDY EPISODE 9]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Calroy Cruller/Amethar Rocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what's one more lie in the grand scheme of things?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmaine/gifts">agentmaine</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i don’t know what the fuck this is. i don’t even watch acoc. but here it is anyways.</p>
<p>every name and place and whatnot are drawn entirely from what i see on my twitter tl and the first episode of acoc on YouTube. i have done no other research.</p>
<p>a gift for jay, just because.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the warm morning light that slowly filters past the curtains, Amethar has never looked less like a king. In this light, out of his royal garb, he looks like any other Candian civilian asleep in their bed. Calroy half-expects him to awake with the dawn, complaining of chickens to feed and sugarcane to harvest. But Amethar is a king, and kings don’t work the fields, so Amethar sleeps. And Calroy watches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a close-kept secret that Amethar and Caramelinda have separate rooms. The castle staff know, of course, but everyone else in the realm believe Amethar and Caramelinda are one happy, heterosexual couple. They’re dead wrong, of course. Their marriage is one of convenience, of politics, of familiarity, of something tangible to keep close to the heart in war-torn times. No romantic love here, especially not with the two of them mourning the loss of a wife and sister. But they had always been friendly, hadn’t they? And who wouldn’t want the ability to say you had the King of Candia wrapped around your little finger? Even the most devout Bulbian priest could turn a blind eye, for the right price.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, when he has a moment to think about something other than battle tactics and his cat’s cradle of a hundred different lies, Calroy imagines the scandal that would tear across Candia if the people found out that Amethar and Caramelinda haven’t lain together since the twins were conceived. Worse, if the people found out about him and the king. He imagines the whispers that would shadow him wherever he went; </span>
  <em>
    <span>King Amethar the Unfallen’s right-hand man</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>can you believe it? How revolting! How repulsive! How scandalous!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amethar’s chambers are the largest in the castle. He is the King of Candia, after all. His bed is absolutely, unnecessarily massive; Calroy can lay spread-eagled as far as his limbs will allow and still not be able to touch the edges of the mattress. Even with such a large bed all to himself, Amethar still favours the left side. Unless Calroy is with him, in which case the two will lay side-by-side in the center, Amethar curled around Calroy’s back like the biggest spoon in the drawer. Amethar says it makes him feel strong, to be able to protect someone he loves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bookshelves are stuffed near to bursting with poetry and fantasy and the entire history of Calorum. It’s all purely for show, of course; Amethar can’t read a single word. But Calroy can. And Calroy does. He has memorized long passages of flowery prose, and often recites them to Amethar under the guise of war talk. Sometimes they walk along the Cola River, Calroy reading from a small book of poetry tucked into the carved-out pages of </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Bryf Hystory ov Caelorum (Ye Fyrst One-Hundrede Years)</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And every once in a while, when the stars align just right, they’ll sneak away and spend an afternoon on a grassy hill watching the clouds roll across the blue sky. Amethar will rest his head on Calroy’s thighs, thick fingers deftly weaving a crown of sugarspun daisies. And Calroy will read page after page of couplets and haikus and limericks so obscene they’d make even the bawdiest of pirates blush. Amethar likes those best.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The king shifts in his sleep, his hand sliding off his chest and onto the cream-coloured sheets. Calroy ghosts his fingers along Amethar’s sleeping face. He traces the kingly brow. The crooked nose. The soft lips. The strong, sharp jaw. The thick neck, pulse jumping steadily beneath the skin, it would be so easy to—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calroy snatches his hand away from Amethar as though he had been burned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moments like these are a lie, and Calroy knows it. He is, above all else, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good liar. So much so he nearly fools himself sometimes. His allegiance to House Rocks is a lie. His allegiance to Ceresia is a lie. His relations with Amethar, too, are a lie. But oh, how he wishes those were true. How he longs to be able to call Amethar his own, to do more than settle for stolen moments in darkened corridors and sunlit bedrooms. His most private daydreams are those of a homely cottage off the coast of the Yogurt Shoals, of a soft bed large enough for two, of a ring on his finger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tears that come unbidden are impossible to blink away, and so Calroy weeps. He is well-trained at the art of keeping silent when others are near, knows how to shove a pillow against his mouth just right to keep any sounds from escaping. He’s had plenty of practice, after all; you don’t live through a war without picking up a few tricks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calroy weeps for the twins, still somehow so childishly innocent in this chess game for the crown. He weeps for the things he’s done to Amethar’s sisters, the things that lead to the death of Archmage Lazuli, oh god, Caramelinda’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span>… The guilt of his past actions is an orange peel on his tongue, bitter and rough and inescapable. Calroy weeps for others, but mostly he weeps for himself: a lonely assassin, scared and confused, lying next to the only man he will ever love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is the last morning Calroy will spend in Amethar’s bed. Forty-two hours from now, he will plunge a water-steel dagger into his lover’s back and push him off the highest rampart of Castle Candy. He will see the blood-red glow of the Locket of the Sweetest Heart extinguish as Ruby crosses the bridge. He will stalk the shadowed halls of the castle, calling for Caramelinda’s crown. But Calroy, much as he wishes, cannot see the future. He sees only now, sees Amethar’s nostrils flare as he breathes, hears the sleeping king mutter something that sounds very much like </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Cal–”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Calroy knows he cannot stay here a moment longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Amethar wakes, Calroy is already gone, stealing through the castle’s secret corridors to make it back to his own room. The pillow beside the king still holds the faint scent of vanilla frosting, and liquid steel.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you have no idea what the book title says, it’s “A Brief History of Calorum (The First One-Hundred Years)” in a very bad attempt at Olde English!</p>
<p>follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/accio_belle">twitter!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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